


Hazy Possibility

by CorsetJinx



Category: Fate/Grand Order
Genre: Curse Subversion, F/M, Gen, Male-Female Friendship, Reunions, Unconventional Partnership
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-14 04:43:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15380916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorsetJinx/pseuds/CorsetJinx
Summary: It is an old story, one everyone already knows. How much would we do to see the ones we love the most once more? What tricks, what favors might we try and beg for in order to have such a chance? Fortunately for those involved, Nitocris feels inclined to be benevolent on this matter.





	1. Chapter 1

"I do not know if such a thing can be done." Nitocris ran a hand along her staff, balancing her weight against it carefully. "If another Spirit would answer my call - let alone a Divine one. However," she looked up, dark eyes hardening with determination, "if this thing can be accomplished then I shall devote my all to it. For my Master, whom I love, and for _you_ , a person my Master loves."

Rama swallowed past the dryness of his throat, wishing that the flutter in his heart was not so frail. It felt like it might break at the slightest thing, but he'd clung to the hope of seeing Sita again for so long that such a desire would always be a part of him. "All right." He agreed slowly. "If you are certain, then I will do everything I can to assist."

Nitocris's heavy gaze softened, her kindness impossible to hide. Her hand twitched, as though she might reach out to comfort him, but restrained herself.

"In my lifetime I was never so fortunate as to marry." She told him gently. The quirk of her mouth was rueful but not fully sad. "Now I wonder what it might have been like to adore someone as much as you do your wife. Truly, she is a blessed woman."

Rama wanted to laugh. If anything, _he_ was the one blessed to be loved by Sita, even once. "Thank you, Nitocris. I'll remember this - so that one day I may be able to repay you for it."

She laughed, straightening up to her full height and squaring her shoulders proudly. Her laugh was a sound different from his Sita's. Warm and clear yes, but different. Once she composed herself, Nitocris raised her staff to lightly catch him around the neck with the figure of a falcon at the stave's end. He bent under her pull, not yet affronted but surprised.

"You may start by clearing the tears from your eyes!" She scolded, all pride and hidden edges now. "We have not even begun, yet your face suggests you have already given up! That won't do - not at all. Come," she tugged on her staff gently, jostling the fog from his thoughts. "Surely you have something of your wife's. Something only the two of you might share. Such a thing will be necessary to serve as the catalyst."

Rama cast his mind back, mentally tallying his possessions. There were a couple of things that might work, but only _one_ that truly stood out.

_But would it get the job done?_ , a little part of him whispered.

The fear threatened to make his throat seal shut and he pushed it aside with all his might. He would believe. In Sita, if not in Nitocris - who was going impossibly far out of her way to do this.

"Yes." He answered, eyes beginning to shine. "I think I know just the thing."

* * *

It was no easy thing, of course, to reach out into the vastness of the world and select a particular spirit to call. The chance was too great that others might answer - pretenders and lost souls desperate for a cause that would free them from death. She could not give them that. Not as they desired, anyway. But with her staff in her hands and the catalyst meant to act as a conduit before her, Nitocris felt that there was little room for failure.

After all, one half of a soul would always call out to its mate across time and space. Even in that holiest of lands where she prayed her brothers might rest, the souls of the departed ached to see their beloved ones.

So, with all her focus and skill in Magecraft, all the power she could boast of as a pharaoh, Nitocris sent out her call and waited for an answer.

It came, after a time, when it felt as though the tether of her own mana grew taunt. Weak at first, fragile as the shell of an egg. She reached out to guide it, incantations falling past her lips as the back of her right hand began to burn. It was a small pain - nothing compared to the murder of her family. She bore it without complaint, only opening her eyes when the summoning took its due and left her in the room with her prize.

_Ah_ , Nitocris felt her heart lift a little and ache. _So small and lovely a thing she is._

Rather than standing, the woman lay curled on her side like a babe. Red hair tinged with orange and gold splayed messily around her, bound in two separate tails that did little to contain the thick tresses. Her skin was flush with life, as though Hathor herself had eased gentle fingers into the earth and shaped this young woman with her own divine hands.

If it were anyone else Nitocris might have prodded them on the backside with the end of her staff. But she felt the tiredness of summoning in her bones and sensed how fragile this pact was without anything to anchor it. So she knelt, lifting shining strands of hair from a warm cheek and gently shook her Servant until the woman's eyes opened.

Red-gold, just like her husband's. Sita blinked up at her without comprehension, her mouth falling open a little in surprise.

"It is time to rise." Nitocris told her softly, unable to suppress a smile. "Do you accept me as your Master, daughter of the furrow - of the sacred and loving Earth?"

"I..." Sita's brows drew together and her eyes searched Nitocris's face. "But you yourself are a Servant?"

Nitocris laughed. "Indeed, I am. I serve my Master, but I am above them as a pharaoh - a child of the Sky God Horus. It is partly for my Master's sake that I have called to you. But," she steeled her expression, adopting the stern tone she typically reserved for those who trespassed her boundaries. "your time is short if you cannot provide me an answer. Do you accept me as your Master?"

Sita blinked, face clouding over as she turned the offer around in her head. Their faint bond still held, but it was growing thin. At last she met Nitocris's stare, resolute, and said, "I do."

"Then rise and be welcome, Sita." Nitocris offered her a hand up, smiling as the tie between them strengthened - their pact formalized. "For I am Nitocris, of the Caster Servant class. I can be a kind Master," she added, seeing Sita's bemusement. "You do not need to fear what orders come from me."

It took a moment - curious and strange as though someone else were looking at her through Sita's vivid eyes - but then Sita smiled and all else fell into place.

"Thank you, my Master."


	2. Chapter 2

"The name of this place," Nitocris begins, once she has helped Sita to her feet and allowed herself a moment to revel in the newness of being a Master, "is Chaldea. The last bastion for humanity, I am sad to say." She adds in a murmur, unconsciously tightening her fingers around Sita's hand. Whether it is meant to comfort Sita or Nitocris herself she is not sure. In the next moment she has tucked her sadness away, meeting her Servant's - no, her _ally's_ gaze with calmness learned from practice.

"It will be very different from your home, but it is not so bad." Nitocris continues as she released Sita's hand. "Some are kind, others may only look upon you in curiosity."

Despite the melancholic set of Sita's features a corner of her mouth lifted. Soon she was smiling, amused and almost mischievous for it.

"I am accustomed to that." Sita assured. Nitocris nodded, feeling her opinion of this new bond rise just a bit. It would take time, of course, to learn what she could of Sita's nuances. If they could continue like this, then she did not see much cause for concern.

"Well then." Tightening her hold on her staff, Nitocris smiled. "Let us quit this place and get you used to your new home. I would also have you meet my Master," she added, "who asked that you be called to our side."

Sita's eyes brightened and it worked subtle changes in her expression. She looked curious, glad of something new to learn and eager to be on their way.

"It would be my honor." Sita's smile returned, slow and brilliant as the sun cresting the horizon.

Already Nitocris could begin to guess which Servants might cause the woman trouble - and she already had a plan to deal with them brewing in the back of her mind as she led the way out of the Summoning Room. Luckily there was no one currently wandering the hall. She did not doubt that there would be questions about a new Servant arriving so soon, let alone one with such a particular resemblance to a certain Saber.

If her luck continued to hold, Rama would be occupied by training exercises until she could get Sita accustomed to moving around Chaldea on her own. Even better if he were competing with Karna in archery. _That_ would keep the both of them busy for days, if allowed.

She pointed out the exercise room, the baths and showers, dared to trust Emiya with the knowledge of just who Sita was when the other Archer inquired. Sita's eyes swept about the kitchen, curious of the modern appliances but not enough to get involved with them. Emiya greeted her kindly enough with one of his slight half-smiles, armed with a whisk and a bowl of something cream-colored. Nitocris did not know what he might be making but knew that it would be delicious.

"He will spoil you before you know it." She confided to Sita once they had taken leave of Emiya's prized domain. How he ever thought he could hide it was a mystery - but she would let him keep his pride for now. She _could_ be generous.

Sita's brows rose, a fond look on her face. "Oh? He enjoys it, doesn't he?"

"Very much so." Nitocris layered her tone with just enough gravitas to make Sita's smile return, pleased when her guess turned out to be right. "Do not be fooled, however. Emiya is known to have a sarcastic blade for a tongue, when he wishes. But he is kindly to newcomers," she chuckled, "and if you do not interrupt his work, clean up after yourself and occasionally compliment his cooking he will be inclined to entertain a request or two."

"It sounds as if you know this well." Sita's tone shifted towards teasing and Nitocris felt color rise to her cheeks.

She favored her with a calculated look, lifting her chin proudly. "As a pharaoh I must know the minds of my subjects and how best to achieve a foundation of support. Emiya is a reliable ally - if crude."

She would never, _ever_ admit to requesting sweets from him - both to appease Ozymandias and her Master when either were not at their best. And yet Sita looked at her as if she already knew the truth. Or at least guessed at it.

"Am I one of your subjects then?" Sita asked instead, her steps measured to match Nitocris's and graceful.

Nitocris came to a stop, turning to face Sita and focused her full attention on the Archer. "You are my subject, yes." She tells her simply, watching Sita's face for any flicker of a reaction. "But I will not hold my authority over you. We are allies in this, our bond as Master and Servant, as two rulers who did not have all the time they desired in the world."

Sita's eyes darkened but she shed no tears. Nitocris recalled how Nightingale, that fearsome woman, had suddenly become soft when she had explained her impressions of Sita. How Sita had given Rama her love, her tears, her life so that he might stand tall and aid their Master against Medb and the Alter of Cu Chulainn. Looking at Sita now, she was pleased to see strength and resolve instead of heartbreak.

"We are allies." Nitocris repeated softly. "And you may place your trust in me. I hope that I may be worthy of yours in time, as we grow together."

The look in Sita's eyes was something close to warm. Enough, perhaps, for her to also share the desire for this pact to work. She opened her mouth, the first syllables of a word taking shape when another voice cut in.

"Sita..?"

Both women turned, differing levels of surprise softening their expressions. Rama had eyes only for Sita, his hands quivering faintly at his sides. Sweat made his hair cling to his temples and cheeks, the rest of his wild mane wind-tousled and tangled as a bird's nest. Dust clung to his clothes and gauntlets, darkening the once pristine white. He took a step forward, then another, voice tremulous and hopeful.

"Sita? It is you, isn't it?"

" _Rama_." Sita smiled, so wide Nitocris thought her face might break. Her whole heart seemed to occupy that word - years of hope and longing and love turning the syllables into something else. She moved forward, exclaiming softly when Nitocris stopped her and raised her staff to point the falcon-crowned end at Rama to halt his advance.

The falcon nearly caught him in the chest and his boots slipped a little on the smoothness of Chaldea's tiled floor. Anger flashed across his face, hurt and betrayal darkening the color of his eyes. Nitocris raised her chin, daring him to bat her staff aside.

"Have some manners." She told him sternly. "It is unseemly for a man to greet a woman while he reeks of blood. Go," the head of her staff lightly jabbed at Rama's chest, "and wash. Make yourself _decent_ and you will see Sita in due time."

Confusion and a hint of sheepishness replaced the anger in his expression. Rama looked down at himself, then over Nitocris's shoulder at Sita. The longing in his gaze was clear.

Sita chuckled, lightly pushing Nitocris's arm away. "Go, my lord. I will still be here when you are refreshed."

Rama sighed, coaxing his reluctant legs into obeying. He did not look happy about it, but a smile tugged at his mouth nonetheless. His gaze swung to Nitocris, still pointing her staff at him in warning. "Forgive me, Nitocris. I did not mean to be rude. Thank you for... well..." he fumbled, throat tight. _"Thank you."_

Nitocris did not lower her staff. "Off with you. You might show your respect and gratitude once your head has cooled." She smiled suddenly, a faint mischievous light dancing in her eyes. "Or shall I speak to Nightingale and tell her you were wounded in your last battle..?"

Apparently Sita's presence was not enough to quell what lingering memories Rama had of being under Nightingale's care; his footsteps quick and only a little unsteady as he sped his way towards the baths. Nitocris watched him go with a satisfied smirk, tapping the end of her staff on the ground to quash her impulse to laugh.

"Men." She remarked, mostly to Sita. "How quickly they lose their sense. It never changes."

"It is not the first time Lord Rama has greeted me so." Sita admitted fondly, eyes bright. "If he did not test a weapon to its limits for his own pleasure, then he would do so in the hopes of impressing me."

Nitocris allowed herself a faint scowl. It was better than rolling her eyes. "A boy at heart still. Come," she offered Sita a sliver of a smile. "We must meet with my Master so that they know the summoning was a success. After that, I shall not keep you long. We need only find a room that suits your taste."

Sita stifled the words she wanted to say and followed Nitocris down the hall, listening to the sound of their combined footsteps as they walked.

* * *

"Sita, right?" Nitocris's Master, a young woman with curious eyes offered her hand for Sita to take. "It's good to see you again. Under better circumstances, at least."

She accepted the handshake with a smile, pleased. "It would seem so, miss. I confess that I did not get to know you well, before..." Sita's expression shuttered before calming once more. "But I thank you. If I had more words... but I cannot think of any beyond that. I never thought this might happen - that..."

Rem squeezed Sita's hand gently, feeling the strength in Sita's fingers when Sita returned the gesture. "It's alright." She assured, letting go once Sita's hand no longer shook. "I'm glad that it worked. You should thank Nitocris, actually. She's the one who did all the hard work."

Nitocris sighed, shaking her head slowly. The feathers in her hair swayed, gold flashing in the room's light. "As though I would seek to fail in a task given to me by my Master. Of course not!"

She drew herself up proudly, a confident smile playing across her face. It made her seem to glow, not unlike how Ozymandias could light up a room with a grin.

"I am grateful to you both." Sita assured. "More than you know."

Heat rose to Nitocris's cheeks and she looked away, clearing her throat. Rem hid a smile behind her hand, looking between the two of them thoughtfully. When she finally lowered her arm her smile was gone - an unconscious habit she'd picked up from being around Arjuna.

"We're glad to have you. How's the link between the two of you? Do you both have enough mana to be stable?"

"I am recovering, Master." Nitocris leaned her staff against her shoulder, careful not to knock it against anything breakable. "The summoning took only a little more than I originally anticipated. I should be at my peak once more by late evening."

Sita flexed her hands, testing the response of her muscles. Energy hummed beneath her skin, the mana she received from Nitocris more than sufficient. Looking up she held Rem's gaze, nodding her head to show that she was fine. "I have no complaints. My Master is generous - the bond between us is stable."

If Nitocris's smile held a gleam of pride once more, neither of them commented on it.

"Good." Relief eased some of the tension in Rem's shoulders. "That's good. You should be able to draw from Chaldea itself soon. It can be a good backup, just in case. You're an Archer, right?"

Sita nodded, pulling the weapon from her back. It fit well in her hands as if it had been carved just for her, though she knew its origin to be far greater than just that.

"My independent action skill will lessen some of the burden." She remarked. "Should the need arise, I can keep my form for a week without mana from my Master. Barring the use of my Noble Phantasm, of course."

"I don't expect that to be an issue." Rem picked at the edge of a bandage wrapped around her finger, stopping when Nitocris pointedly stared at her hands. "But that's good to know. Nitocris showed you around the facility?"

"I did, Master." Nitocris hummed. "Though Da Vinci was lost in one of her projects, so I did not interrupt. We might never have been allowed to leave, otherwise."

This time Rem wasn't quick enough to hide her smile. She shook her head when Sita glanced her way in confusion. "You'll understand once you meet Da Vinci. She's not a bad person, just... flighty."

"Easily distracted." Nitocris remarked flatly. "Eager to prove her supposed genius."

"She _is_ a genius." Rem countered mildly. "It's thanks to her that Chaldea runs as smoothly as it does."

That seemed to appease Nitocris, or at least come close enough that she did not argue. Sita shouldered her bow once again, amused by the turn of conversation.

"Da Vinci will get you set up with whatever you need." Rem promised, turning her attention to Sita once more. "It's Dr. Roman who runs the training simulations and monitors the rayshift process. You'll meet them both soon - tomorrow even, if you feel up to a little field exercise."

A low buzz of excitement made the tips of Sita's fingers grow warm.

"I would like that." She admitted. "It has been a long time since I was given a chance to fight for myself. To have that opportunity means a great deal."

Nitocris nodded, tapping her staff against her shoulder gently. "You will do well here, once you learn the rhythm of things."

"Let's get you set up with a room first." Rem pushed herself off her desk, careful not to disturb the miscellaneous collection of bottles and ascension materials on its surface. "Unless you want to stay with Rama?" She added, mouth quirking.

Sita did not try and hide her smile, lacing her fingers together behind her back. "If my Master has no complaints... I would like to spend time with my lord."

Nitocris huffed out a breath when two sets of eyes settled on her, waiting for approval. She drew herself up as well, setting her staff on the ground once more. "I have no complaint about two people tied together in marriage sharing their quarters. However," she frowned, regal and stern. "I do expect you to be on time for chores and training once you have been added to the schedule. Understood?"

Sita's laugh filled the room, brilliant and lovely. "Yes, Master. I understand."


	3. Chapter 3

His dash towards the baths turned a few heads but Rama paid no heed to them as he ducked between doors and tried to make shedding his battle-stained clothes as quick as possible. The buckles of his gauntlets taunted him in particular, his fingers slipping over the familiar straps and catches. Impatience tempted him to simply dematerialize everything - he'd made it to the changing room, who cared if he was in the nude?

Then Rama looked up and met the curious eyes of Cu Chulainn. The hound of Ulster, in his Lancer incarnation, watched him fumble with a slowly growing smirk. One sharp tooth poked out from beneath Cu's lip, adding a slightly bestial edge to his evident amusement.

"Where's the fire eh, Saber? You came running in like something unpleasant was chasing you." Cu Chulainn's brows slowly rose like he'd been struck by a sudden thought. "Don't tell me you got sick of being around that other king. Thought the two of you would get along."

Finally able to prize his gauntlets free, Rama narrowed his eyes.

"Check your tongue before you speak to me, Lancer. I have no patience for those who lack respect. Especially if they make a habit of kidnapping women." He added, dropping his gauntlets onto a bench. The ring of metal echoed like a challenge and Rama thought that for the briefest moment Cu Chulainn's gaze might have darkened.

He raised his chin proudly, defiant. Uneasy silence festered between them, broken only by the faint sound of the showers in the next room. Then Cu laughed, catching Rama by surprise. The sound was deep and vibrant. Like he'd somehow told Lancer the funniest joke Cu Chulainn had ever heard.

"Not my business. I get it." Cu smiled, all teeth and his red eyes were suspiciously bright. "I know when to back off. See you around, Saber."

Rama watched him walk out with a towel loose around his shoulders, blue hair wet from the showers. Once he was satisfied that Cu was truly gone, he set about tugging off the rest of his clothes. Irritating as the encounter had been it had helped Rama to remember himself. He'd look a fool if he sped through the process of cleaning himself the way he'd bolted down the halls.

And, though he could only admit this to himself, he did not want to look like a fool in front of Sita.

The thought that she was here, within the walls of Chaldea made his heart race. He grabbed a towel and picked a stall at random, turning on the spray once he set the towel out of the water's reach. Hot water spattered his shoulders but Rama hardly felt it even as he closed his eyes and turned his face up into the water. The drumming of it helped center his focus, anchoring him to the present. He might have drifted away otherwise, so entranced with the thought of seeing Sita again that one might have thought him dreaming.

But it could not have been a dream. He'd seen her with his own eyes, standing beside Nitocris. His ears had heard her voice - even now, so long after their last parting Rama still recognized the sound. It had sweetened his memories, haunted him in every dream, comforted and broken him every morning he'd woken in Kosala without her.

His fault, that. His own damnable, miserable fault. Such a mistake, to heed the whispers of his people over the virtues of his beloved.

Rama scrubbed at his face, willing away the burning behind his eyes. His fingers slipped into his hair and he forced himself to patiently comb through every snarl and tangle. Washing the sweat and dirt from his body was easy, his skin turned pink by the heat of the spray. He felt calmer once he'd finished, no longer foolhardy by the hope and adrenaline rushing through his veins.

The other shower had gone silent at some point while he'd been washing. Wrapping the towel around himself, Rama stepped out and did his best not to slip on the floor. He had other clothes, summonable at will. With just a thought the ones he'd hurriedly shucked could dissolve, no worse for wear. He paused, however, stepping into the dressing room.

Avenger, forever claiming _not_ to be the famed Edmond Dantes, stood by one of the mirrors. Pale as milk, Avenger's peculiar eyes seemed all the brighter when they turned towards Rama. Just for a moment he thought Avenger might speak, Dantes' mouth parting to surely form words. Instead he smiled, slow and knowing; oddly without the veneer of mockery that usually clung to his expressions. Before Rama could question him Avenger was leaving, his white hair swaying behind him as he disappeared through the door.

The encounter planted a nervous weight in Rama's stomach. It urged him to hurry in drying off, to dress, and his feet carried him through the door only a few moments after Avenger's presence ceased to register. Glancing up and down the hallway he could see no one else, the weight in his stomach sinking a little lower as he strained his senses.

Perhaps his Master would have the answer. He needed to see her in any case - to express his thanks before she thought him ungrateful and rude.

* * *

Rama's room was just as Sita had imagined it. Granted, the identical nature of everyone's private quarters let something to be desired. Yet as soon as she crossed the threshold there was no question in her mind who the room belonged to. Brahamastra, propped close by the bed, was an unmistakable indicator. Nestled near the corner of the opposite wall, a little ways from the desk littered with small curiosities, stood a shrine.

Garlanded with flowers, watching her with dark stone eyes, her husband's chosen god Shiva kept a silent vigil over the room. Sita let the tug of impulse pull her forward, pausing only to set her bow gingerly beside Brahamastra. She knelt, breathing in the gentle fragrance of incense, and lowered her head before Shiva's gaze.

Words would not be enough to express her thankfulness for this. The opportunity to be summoned. To be able to stand at her husband's side as an equal, to work as one in saving the world. Still, she offered her gratitude to the patient god. What words left her lips were for His ears alone, lost in the silence of the room.

When Sita stood she turned to look at the room with new eyes. Curiosity begged her to touch the odd collection of objects scattered over Rama's desk. To lift and examine each one so that she might discover what had persuaded him to keep it. If it had reminded him in some small way of home. Or if momentary amusement had been the deciding factor.

She did no more than gently run the tip of a finger along the edge of his desk, smiling. Though the room still boasted the impersonal air it had been constructed with, Rama had found ways to make it his own. In that way he had not changed from the man she'd loved.

An idea began to form in the back of her mind, soft and nostalgic like a favorite recollection from the past. Sita smiled, turning away from the desk and began to examine the rest of the room.

* * *

Rem looked up as soon as his feet carried him across the threshold. His master blinked, surprise written in the lift of her brows. Rama offered her a brief inclination of his head and waited for her to finish putting the last touch on the charm she was working on. Setting her pen down and wiping her fingers Rem lightly pushed herself away from the desk, turning her chair around to face him properly. A little bit of ink still clung to her hands despite her best efforts. She didn't seem to notice.

"Everything okay?" She asked. "I thought you'd be with Sita by now."

Brief irritation arose at the forwardness of her statement. Rama tried to reign it in, reminding himself that she meant no malice. That and Rem preferred to be straightforward in her conversations, though she had a somewhat better grasp of delicacy than Savitra did.

"I came to express my thanks to you, Master." Rama allowed himself a smile, though it was a small one. "It is not much, nowhere near enough to repay the kindness you have done for me. But it is what I have, besides my vow to serve you faithfully."

The left corner of Rem's mouth crept upwards and her eyes softened. It was a familiar look, one she often wore whenever she thought he or her other Servants were being just a little ridiculous.

"Nitocris did all the hard work. But I'm glad things are going well. Did you thank her?"

"I did." Rama answered. Heat crept up the back of his neck though he tried his best to keep it from showing on his face. "I made a slight fool of myself, earlier. Sita was there and I..." He trailed off, swallowing thickly.

Rem gave the napkin she'd been using to clean her hands a twist, studying him. When he didn't look up from the floor she offered, "I don't think Sita would consider you a fool. Or Nitocris, even if she doesn't want to admit it."

In a softer tone she added, "It's the first time you two have been able to see each other since America. Of course you'd want to be close to Sita as soon as you saw her."

"But what if the curse of separation drives us apart, as it is supposed to?" Rama looked up at last, features twisting with pain. "If Sita is dismissed from here despite being Nitocris's servant as a technicality - or if we cannot occupy the same space as before..."

"I thought about that." Rem assured him mildly. One hand crept towards a thin dark chain around her neck, closing around something that dangled from it under the cover of her shirt. For a second her gaze drifted away from him, towards something unseen, before she offered him a half-smile.

"Curses are selfish things. You know that better than a lot of people here." Her hand tightened around the object she held, then lowered to twist and worry at the napkin again. "But you won't have to worry about it. They can be shifted for a little while. Bound to something else."

Rama's eyes widened, then gradually narrowed. He frowned, studying her with something close to concern. "Master?"

"Family secret." Rem gave him a thumbs-up, her smile widening when he stared blankly at the gesture. "Now, I'm sure you have better things to do than drip water on my floor and beat around the bush. Somebody's waiting to see you, after all."

She thought he wouldn't take the bait for a moment, his stare still questioning and faintly worried. But the temptation of seeing Sita once again slowly won over. Rama's shoulders dropped and he stood up straight, though he did peer sheepishly at the tiny puddle which had built up around him.

"Where is she?" Rama asked hesitantly, nervous and hopeful again. "Did Sita prefer to pick a room for herself or..."

"Your room." Rem chuckled, turning back to her desk and pulling herself towards it. "Nitocris was fine with it, so long as Sita turns up for training and all that." She began to reach for the pen she'd been using, pausing to give Rama a sidelong glance.

"Take your time. Sparring won't be til late, tomorrow. Da Vinci's got work to do with the calibrations and Dr. Roman will be helping her. So no rushing through tonight, 'kay?"

Rama smiled. It nearly made him look like a different person, wiping away all the stress and doubt he'd entered her room with. Truthfully, it was nice to see.

"Thank you, Master. I swear I won't forget this!" He all but ran from the room, still-damp hair fanning out behind him. Rem almost called out for him not to slip while he ran but the door closed before she could get the words out.

Instead she went back to her work, smiling as the lines began to take shape on the charm.

* * *

He slowed his feet just as the door to his room quietly slid open, letting him into the somewhat dim interior. His excitement made his eyes dance over the familiar furnishings - his bed, the shrine he'd made in-between being called out to the field, the desk which was standard for all Chaldea staff. The narrow space allotted for a closet was shut just as he'd left it, though he'd never found much use for it.

Besides the bow propped carefully next to his sword and the white boots by the door, he saw no sign of Sita. A second glance at the shrine he'd dedicated to Shiva confirmed that someone had lit incense recently. When he examined the tiny pile of ashes, however, they were pale and cold.

It struck him, then. A memory from the past, from his days as King of Kosala. Long days spent in counsel and diligently ruling, only to return to an empty room that only bore echoes of better times. He'd never possessed the heart to get rid of Sita's things - no matter how much time passed and his spirit sank lower until the world seemed veiled in tiredness.

Rama swallowed, hands limp at his sides as he stared at the altar without really seeing it. Closing his eyes, he breathed in. Little clues grounded him in the present, helping to fend off the memories. The air in his room was chill and dry, tasting vaguely of dust and metal. He could feel that the floor beneath his feet was tile, not wood or stone. If he stretched his senses far enough, he could pinpoint Rem by her mana signature and trace its web to a handful of her other Servants that lingered nearby.

Still, his heart ached.

" _Sita..._ " Drawing in a breath, Rama held it. The fading incense tickled his throat and nose, familiar and comforting.

Warm arms encircled him, a pair of small hands folding over his heart. As if to protect it the hands lingered there, holding him against what was unmistakably a body. Rama shivered as the warmth of the one behind him began to seep into his skin, letting out the breath he'd been holding as a trembling sigh.

"Tell me," began a voice he knew intimately well, "o peerless husband, why do you sigh as though you wish to weep?"

_Ah Shiva_ , he wanted to cry. _Let this not be a dream._ How long had he waited to hear that voice? To stand so close and feel the beat of his heart settle in peace?

_Let this not be a dream._

"I had thought you gone once again." Rama heard himself say. He wanted to turn around and see for himself that she was real. "That I had lost you before I could even properly say hello..."

Something soft pressed against his back as the arms around him tightened. He waited, afraid to breathe lest the moment break. The embrace loosened and he missed the heat of those hands as they released him, heart thudding against his ribs as if to call them back.

"Open your eyes, my lord. Open them and look for yourself."

He did, turning faster than he ought to have. Fabric caught at his legs, threatening to tangle. His pulse beat in his throat, rushing in his ears. Sita smiled up at him, eyes large and wet, her hands frozen in the act of reaching for him again. A sound caught in his throat and he reached out to touch her with trembling fingers. Her hands closed around his, fingers calloused from her bow.

Real. Sita was _real_. Her skin held warmth and substance against his own, the gentle flicker of her pulse apparent when her fingers tightened around his. The weight that had gathered in his stomach faded, taking the strength from his knees in exchange. If not for Sita, he might have sunk to the floor right then. Instead she held him up, tucking her head under his chin as his tears fell into her hair.

"Sita. Sita." Every mumble of her name left him a little more giddy, relief headier than any wine. "I'm sorry. I - "

"What was done then is long ago, my lord." Sita murmured, her voice thick. "We are here now, _together_. We have all the time we need." She held him tightly, adding in a softer voice. "I love you."

"I love you too." Moving back, blinking through tears and fumbling as though his hands belonged to a stranger Rama gently cupped her face between his palms. With utmost care he wiped the trails of wetness from Sita's eyes, unable to help a smile when she chuckled. "Sita. Peerless wife, lotus among women. I love you."

Color spread across her cheeks and this time she laughed fully, delight chasing away what sorrow had been lingering in her eyes. Rama drank the sight in, reveling in her laughter. She was real. This, this moment between them was real and there were no bars to separate them.

"It has been a long day, my lord. Rama, my love." Sita smiled, tugging him forward a step and he followed her gladly. "Let us sit as we used to and you can tell me all the stories you have learned."

Rama smiled, following Sita step for step to the bed and sat as close as she permitted. For once he did not mind the lack of his gauntlets, glad to feel Sita's hand against his own. "Which shall I tell first? It has been a long time since I told a story... I may have forgotten how."

"Rest your head," she told him, an echo of the teasing nature he remembered dancing in her voice. "and begin at the beginning. I shall listen."

Leaning against her, hands entwined, Rama let himself relax as he closed his eyes. To begin at the beginning... well, he had plenty of adventures to share.

**Author's Note:**

> The curse of separation afflicting Rama and Sita is a very interesting thing. Personally, I'm a sucker for happy endings but this is Fate. You can't get everything that you want, but you might be able to get the most important bits. And since we've seen Medea subvert a Master's control over a Servant with her Rulebreaker, I figured it wouldn't be too long of a shot to think Nitocris might be able to do the same.
> 
> It's not _technically_ "standing side-by-side" if the Master who summoned you is different from the Master of the man you love, now is it?


End file.
